


found my family in a graveyard

by bugselfs



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Julie Molina, Bisexual Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Good Parent Ray Molina, Lesbian Flynn (Julie and The Phantoms), M/M, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), because I said so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugselfs/pseuds/bugselfs
Summary: Four times Ray was a pretty stinking good parent, and a fifth time, but this time it's different.(or: coming home.)(theoretically updating every day)
Relationships: Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Carlos Molina & Ray Molina, Flynn & Ray Molina, Flynn/Julie Molina, Julie Molina & Ray Molina, Luke Patterson/Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Ray Molina & Alex, Ray Molina & Everybody, Ray Molina & Luke Patterson, Ray Molina & Reggie
Comments: 94
Kudos: 415





	1. David Weiss

**Author's Note:**

> the boys are seniors, the girls are juniors, and carlos is in 8th grade. it's like a year after canon age-wise, but canon is also completely irrelevant. they're all in the music program together, and the boys still brought music back into julie's life but it was different. ok!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke Patterson

Ray is standing over the stovetop - pushing some mushy onions around the oiled pan, praying to God his _empanadas_ will be anything like Victoria’s - when Luke pokes his head out from around the corner, where he stands in the hallway that leads to the backdoor. “Um, Mr. Molina?” Luke asks.

“Yeah, Luke?” Ray replies, turning to see him. “And it’s Ray, buddy, you know that.”

Luke grimaces in what Ray is sure was meant to be a smile. He shuffles forward hesitantly, like beneath every kitchen tile could be a trapdoor. When he finally slides into a barstool, his eyes widen with surprise as he sees Ray’s still watching him. Still, Ray smiles reassuringly. “Um, right, Ray,” he agrees, like he hadn’t just taken forty-five seconds to walk seven steps underneath the weight of his anxiety. “I kinda have something to ask you? And it’s okay, if it’s not okay with you. I really don’t want to be weird or make you uncomfortable so it’s fine either way, I just-”

“Luke,” Ray hushes, turning off the stove and approaching the teenager at the countertop. He puts his hands on top of Luke’s fumbling ones. “Whatever you need to ask me. Go ahead, bud.”

Luke looks at him with earnest eyes, and after a long, long moment, he says, “Will you come to my awards ceremony for the music program?” 

Ray blinks exactly twice. _Uh, duh?_ he thinks, but before he can say it out loud, Luke barrels on, like Ray isn’t even there. “My parents think the whole thing is kind of stupid, but - you know, you’re always hanging out with us when we play and you let us use you garage and I really never would’ve been able to even audition without your help, so I was hoping maybe you’d wanna go and - I don’t know.”

“ _Luke_ ,” Ray says again, but this time with infliction. “Of course I’ll go.” He pretends not to see Luke’s shoulders sag with relief. “What did you win?”

Luke grins sheepishly. “Oh, it’s - uh - the _David Weiss_ music scholarship. Um, Mrs. Harrison has a ceremony for all the seniors who get scholarships.”

“That is _amazing_ ,” Ray insists and grabs Luke’s face. “Oh, Luke, I am so proud of you.”

When Luke’s eyes water, Ray says nothing of it. When he scuttles to the other side of the counter and pulls Luke in and holds him tight, he says nothing of it. When Luke’s body wracks with dry, quiet sobs, and he clutches Ray’s shirt like he’s afraid one of them will be blown away from the ceiling fan’s sputtering breeze, and he buries his face in his hands after pulling away and wipes furiously at his red cheeks and red eyes - Ray doesn’t say a word.

“What do you want for dessert, _mijo_?” Ray asks as he makes his way back to the stove.

“What?”

Ray stifles his laughter. “Well, I already started making dinner,” he explains. “But we’re celebrating, so you get to choose dessert.”

“Oh, Mister - uh, I mean, _Ray_ , I really couldn’t-”

“Lucas Patterson,” Ray scolds, but it’s lighthearted and Ray makes sure Luke can see the fond smile on his face. “Choose dessert. _Please_. Otherwise we will be eating freezer-burnt vanilla ice cream _again._ Anything you want, we can make it, we can go out - it’s up to you, _mi músicito_.”

(Luke blushes like he always does when Ray calls him something in Spanish. It’s sweet, how all the boys - even Flynn, sometimes - are unfamiliar with Ray’s open affection, but it’s sad too, like their parents don’t call them _my little musician_ or congratulate them on their achievements. Sometimes, Ray wishes he could build a house big enough for all of them, so they would never be afraid to ask if he’d like to go to their awards ceremonies because they’d know he would say yes.)

“Taylor’s,” Luke blurts. “It’s what I always do to celebrate. It’s a milkshake spot with like four hundred flavors. Um, I usually go by myself, but it would be fun to go together. As a - a group.”

“Sure.” Ray agrees, beaming. “Family milkshake adventure. Sounds fun. Will you tell all the others about the plan? And dinner should be ready in - oh, uh, thirty minutes. I think.”

Luke laughs and kicks his leg out. Ray always smiles when he does that. “Okay,” he says. “Um, thank you, Ray.”

“Always, _mijo_ ,” Ray promises, and it’s true.

* * *

Three weeks later, Ray is sitting in a metal fold-out chair that he can barely squeeze into, wearing what Victoria promised him was totally appropriate for Luke’s ceremony. (Looking around, he’s relieved to see every other parent in the audience looking equally overdressed and uncomfortable.) Beside him is Carlos, who has his _Julie and the Phantoms_ shirt on, paired with the gray beanie he’d stolen from Luke’s locker only a few minutes prior. Across the auditorium with the music program students is Julie in the front row of the bleachers, sitting in a line with the whole gang - besides Luke.

Mrs. Harrison stands front and center on the stage looking out over the parents and bends over just slightly to speak into the microphone. “Welcome, parents, to our annual scholarship celebration.”

The audience breaks out into thundering applause, but it only takes a few seconds for Mrs. Harrison to calm everybody back down. “Thank you all for coming. Today, we are celebrating the graduating class of 2021. These students have done tremendous things with their years at Los Feliz, but I’d like to take the time to applaud you all for supporting your children to the best of your ability.”

That’s a hard pill to swallow. Ray sucks in a cold, sad breath, but before he can wallow over Luke’s parents, Carlos nudges him. “Applaud for yourself,” Carlos hisses. “Be a little selfish.”

Ray smiles. He has to.

“The students walking across this stage today are particularly talented, hard-working students, who have dedicated their lives to music. I am so proud to have seen them grow. When these guys are winning Grammys, I better be in the speech.” The families all laugh politely, and Mrs. Harrison keeps going. “Enough introductions. You all know what you’re here for. Let’s get started.”  
  


According to the roster they picked up at the entrance, Luke is fourteen in the line of fifteen students walking the stage. Ray applauds for each one, though he gets antsier by the second.

When it’s the kid before Luke, Carlos starts filming and Ray readies his own phone camera - which, by the way, better be worth it, because he didn’t want to be _that_ dad that brings the tripod to the ceremony - for photos.

Ray sees the moment Luke takes his first step onto the stage, and he stands, already applauding before anybody’s even said a word. “The _David Weiss_ scholarship goes to Luke Patterson,” Mrs. Harrison announces, and Ray, Carlos, Julie, Flynn, Alex, and Reggie erupt into cheers that are so loud it borders on disruptive. While Ray is hooting and hollering, Carlos taps on his shoulder furiously.

“Look,” Carlos whispers, pointing at the bleachers. There, Ray sees Luke’s four best friends wearing matching shirts with Luke’s face on them - shirts Ray distinctly did not see when Julie left the house. Ray laughs, though, because it’s objectively funny - what with the pixelated, embarrassing photo of Luke with food in his nose and big black letters that read _TEAM LUKEYPOO_ across the top - and because Mrs. Harrison shakes her head in amused horror at the group. Reggie looks especially proud, because of course this was his idea, and Luke blushes a deep dark red.

The next morning, Ray brings his phone to a Walgreens to get the photos developed, and he frames the one of him and Luke, arms wrapped around each other with big, genuine smiles, holding a placard with Luke’s name on it, and the one of all seven of them mid-laugh. There’s another that he likes, of Luke’s face on stage when he first notices the band out on the bleachers, where his cheeks have noticeably reddened and his smile is equal parts fond and bashful. Ray puts that one in a shoebox, where all the photos of his kids’ high school years are kept.

(The night of the ceremony, Ray falls asleep reliving the moment a nearby mom offered to take a picture of him and Luke, calling Luke his son, and how neither of them corrected her.)


	2. Julie's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn Warner

The Molinas have been going to Flynn’s band concerts since the second semester of eighth grade, when she quietly admitted over dinner one night that her mom worked and couldn’t make it to the one where she had her first solo. Rose, ever the softie, asked for a ticket, and Flynn said she could get one for everybody, if they wanted.

Of course, they wanted.

When Rose died, it hit them all hard. She was one of those people who lit up the rooms she walked into. Ray looks back on those memories, and a part of him thinks he should’ve known she would die young; all the good do, they say. Still, the world felt shattered the first day without Rose’s voice, and Ray almost forgot that Flynn had spent almost as much time with Rose as they all had.

She didn’t come over for a month after Rose’s death. She didn’t want to, and Julie didn’t ask her to. The house was cold, now. 

Two months later, Flynn had another band concert. Normally, she would bring Ray and Rose their tickets, knowing full well that they would say yes, but this time, Ray had to find out from Julie over dinner.

“Flynn has a concert tomorrow,” she said, a Thursday night, eating cold spaghetti.

Ray didn’t reply, at first. Music wasn’t really his thing as of late. “She never gave me the invite.”

“I think she didn’t want to make us sad,” Julie explained. “Since… Mom always went.”

Carlos sniffled and Julie and Ray pretended not to hear. “We should go,” Ray said after a few long moments of silence. “Your mom wouldn’t want her to be alone.”

It was hard, of course it was, to hear the sound of blaring trumpets and piano keys without the laughter from Rose beside them. (She always used to take a photo with Flynn and Ray after, and she always called Flynn her daughter, always kissed her on the cheek and said she was proud.) But they had to go on, with or without her - if not for Rose, for Flynn.

Flynn cried that night when she saw them in the audience. Carlos cried too. Julie held his hand, and Ray had to be strong for them, so he cheered Flynn on until his voice broke.

Now, in 2020, music is back in their lives, but nights without Rose are still sore. She no longer sings in the kitchen while he dances to the ticking of a clock, and her songs don’t reverberate through the house as she clunks on the old piano in the studio. Instead, it’s Carlos who fills the dinnertime silence with ghost stories, Julie whose voice echoes in the garage. It hurts, but it’s beautiful too.

“Hey, Ray,” Flynn says to him as she slides into the chair she always sits in for dinner, though no food is on the table. In fact, Julie is nowhere to be seen, so Ray isn’t really sure what to do besides close his laptop and smile at the teenager in front of him. Then again, it’s not all that unusual to see Flynn with or without Julie; this is as much her home as it is his.

“Hi, Flynn,” he replies. “What’s up?” She hands him the ticket wordlessly, and he grins. “Any solos this time?”

“Yeah,” she says, and then hesitates. He lifts a brow, so she bustles on. “It’s - um, well - it’s not official yet. But I wrote an original song.”

“Oh!” Ray beams, clapping his hands. “I didn’t know you composed. Tell me about it.”

“I have a slot to perform it,” she explains. “Mrs. Harrison really likes it. But I was wondering if you would listen to it, before I tell her if I’m playing it or not?”

He smiles and stands, brushing off imaginary dust from his jeans. “Of course, _mija_. Come show me. What instrument is it on?”

“Piano,” she answers, leading him into the studio. “Julie’s been letting me practice and write in here while she, like, hangs out with the guys and stuff. I - um - I didn’t want her to hear the song yet.”

Ray doesn’t get it. They’re best friends - why wouldn’t Flynn want Julie to hear? But he doesn’t ask, because he never understood teenagers anyways. When they make it to the garage, Flynn rushes over to the couch and pulls a few sheets of paper from her notebook. “It’s a three instrument piece,” she tells him, like he knows shit about music. “I could play it on just piano, but Mrs. Harrison told me I could have a violinist and a cellist if I wanted to, because I wrote those parts too.” As she talks, she gingerly lines the music up on the stand, sitting down so slowly it seems she’s afraid the bench will break under her.

“I would love to hear it,” he says earnestly, sitting in the chair near the piano. “Whenever you’re ready, Flynn.”

Flynn takes a resounding breath as she lays her fingers over the keys. She exhales, and begins.

It starts out with light, airy notes that twinkle. It reminds Ray of the game Julie played as a little girl, _Pixie Hollow,_ with its high-pitched sparkling noises that bounce and bloom. Quickly, the song gets louder, deeper, until Flynn has moved into the center of the piano, playing a bellowing melody that threatens to bring tears from Ray’s eyes. She stays there for a long while, a bitter tune, but it’s still beautiful. There’s a flourish, a long one, that starts at a low G and moves a number of octaves up to the highest C, and then quieter than before, Flynn lingers. She repeats the same melody, but one hand moves and separates to a low harmony while the other pushes through. Over and over, and it gets bolder, stronger, louder, like she’s shouting into the keys. Ray almost thinks it sounds like - well, it sounds like a song Julie wrote a few months back. Not the same, just different enough that it sounds like a Flynn-original, but it’s similar.

All of it reminds Ray of being in love. The bitterness, the fear, the joy, bound together by a sense of belonging to a person.

Then, she holds a chord. Lets it fade back down to a small - though not shy - noise. It almost sounded finished, but finished it was. Eventually, she lifts her hands from the keys and turns to look at Ray. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“That was amazing, Flynn,” he tells her earnestly. “What - what is it called?”

Flynn goes from looking bashful to looking truly afraid. “Um.” She fiddles with the papers, avoiding Ray’s eyes, stacking the sheets together and moving to stuff them back into her bag. “It’s, uh, called - um. _Julie’s Song_.”

Ray is silent for a moment. “Is it - it’s a love song, isn’t it?” 

Flynn nods, not looking at Ray. This is why she didn’t want to show Julie, and maybe this is why she wanted to show him instead. “I was wondering if - if you think I should still play it. Or if I should do a different song.”

He puts his hand over Flynn’s without a word. “You know,” he says, “she talks about you when you’re not around. All the time. About how you make her laugh, and how you make her feel brave. I think, even if she doesn’t feel the same, there is _nothing_ you could do to scare her away.”

Flynn looks at him finally, though her eyes are watery and uncertain. “Are you sure?” she asks.

“I’m positive,” he tells her, and he is.

* * *

Two weeks later, Julie, Carlos, and Ray all slide into the second row of the auditorium’s plastic chairs. On the other side of Julie, three seats are saved for the boys, but Ray hears they’re running late and might not arrive until intermission; which is fine, because Flynn isn’t on until the end of the night. In fact, she’s the very last performance. _Warner._

They listen to the other performers with diligence, because Ray is nothing if not polite, but he waits anxiously for Flynn’s name to be called. Julie knows he’s heard the song, and he insists that she’ll love it, but he doesn’t really know that, does he? He loves Flynn like she’s his own, but it’s scary, not knowing if his girls’ hearts are going to break. A part of him is confident in the both of them, but the older part - the part that lost his wife, that sleeps alone with a pillow lying vertically beside him so his bed feels less empty, that has had to learn how to make less coffee because the person who he shared it with isn’t around anymore - is just afraid.

When Luke, Reggie, and Alex come shuffling into the gym, Mrs. Harrison announces the beginning of intermission. Julie tells them all about her favorite performances and Carlos cons a dollar off of Ray for a homemade rice Krispy treat from the bake sale table, and Ray takes a few deep breaths. He pulls out his phone, and it’s pinged with a memory from exactly two years before.

Him, Rose, and Flynn. He posted it on Instagram a little bit after her performance. Rose is smiling impossibly wide at the camera, and Flynn has her head leaned on Ray’s shoulder, and the caption reads, _Congrats on the solo, Flynn. #BrassInstrument #ShesGonnaBeFamousOneDay #ThatsMyKid._

Julie taps him on the shoulder. “That’s a cute picture,” she tells him with a smile. “I’ll take a picture of you and Flynn tonight too.”

Ray smiles at her. “Thank you, _mija,_ ” he says. “I would love that.” (He might love it more if Rose were there, but maybe she will be in ghost form. A shadow, watching over Flynn. Keeping her brave.)

Soon after, Mrs. Harrison calls everybody’s attention back to the stage, and the conversation is over, but Ray still hurts. It hurts in a good way, though. Like when you remember your first kiss, or your childhood dog, or your last summer at sleepaway camp, or - you know - your dead wife. The memories are all still there, and they’re all still good, even if it’s over.

Four performances are in between intermission and Flynn, and Ray gets more and more antsy each minute. He wants to fast forward to Flynn’s song - _Julie’s Song_ , actually - but instead, he politely appreciates the other students’ talents and cheers at all the right times. Finally, the fourth song ends, and Mrs. Harrison walks back onto the stage.

“Beautiful, Olivia, thank you.” She waves at the retreating flutist, who smiles. “Our last performance of the night is an original song composed by Flynn Warner.” The Molina row, rowdy as ever, erupts into cheers. Mrs. Harrison laughs. “I see the Molinas are here,” she teases, and they laugh. “On the cello is Ralph Thompson; the violin, Daphne Peters, and our composer Flynn is on the piano.” That’s the students’ cue to shuffle into place, laying out their sheet music and avoiding the eyes of the crowd. “I am personally _very_ excited for this one,” Mrs. Harrison says. “Let’s give it up to Flynn and her orchestra, with _Julie’s Song_.”

The audience claps, but Julie falters. “What?” she whispers, looking over at Ray. He gestures at her to look back at Flynn, who is staring at Julie directly with deer-in-a-headlight eyes.

He watches as Julie slowly but surely smiles at Flynn and cheers. “Go off, Flynn!” she shouts, and the boys laugh, shushing her playfully. Flynn grins, nods, and clunks out that first, hesitant note.

It’s just as beautiful as Ray remembers it, if not more so. The violin and cello layer overtop perfectly, making it sound sad and bitter and - well, in love.

By the end of it, Ray is crying as much as he had the first time he heard it, and beside him, so is Julie. She’s shaking her head in disbelief, and Alex hits her a couple times and whispers something in her ear. She scoffs, but when the last note dwindles, this time with an accompaniment, she stands with the audience and howls into her cupped hands. The three musicians stand and bow their heads, and Flynn wipes unsubtly at the tears that have fought their way down her face. When Mrs. Harrison comes back onstage, she hugs Flynn with a wet laugh.

“What a beautiful ending to tonight’s showcase,” Mrs. Harrison says, and she goes into a speech about celebrating all the talented students that played tonight, donations are welcome, the proceeds from the bake sale goes to the programs - but Ray is looking at Julie, who is stunned.

“Julie?” he asks once the audience begins their final round of applause.

“You - you knew?” she replies. “That it was about me?”

“It’s Flynn’s story to tell, my love,” he insists, and she nods.

“No, I agree, I just thought - well I-”

“Hey, there she is!” Reggie cheers. “Go Flynn!”

Flynn laughs, holding her music close to her chest as she approaches. “Hey, guys,” she says shyly, avoiding Julie’s stare. “What’s up?”

“Uh, Warner? When were you gonna tell me you compose?” Luke claps her hand and does the bro-hug thing, and Alex rolls his eyes at the move. “Come on, now I got _real_ competition.”

“Is that a dig on all of us or just Julie?” Alex retorts. He pulls Flynn in for a hug. “Seriously, you were amazing.”

“Oh, Flynn,” Ray charges on, filling the silence before it even begins. “It was beautiful. You did great. I love it even more with the strings.”

“Thanks,” she replies, laughing nervously as she tucks back a braid behind her ears. Finally, she meets Julie’s eyes, and Ray watches it all happen in amazement.

Julie rushes forward and pulls Flynn into a hug so tight Ray fears her bones will crack. The boys all share knowing glances with each other before catching Ray’s eyes as he quirks a brow. Alex clears his throat and gestures with his head so all of them follow - even Carlos.

“It was a love song, right?” Luke asks as they give the girls their space.

Ray hesitates. “Um, guys, I don’t think I should talk about that.”

“What Luke means is-” Alex gives Luke the token _Alex-glare-_ “Julie kinda told us that she’s in love with Flynn and Flynn wrote this song so we’re kinda hoping…”

“Oh,” Ray says. Weird to think about his daughter dating somebody, even if it’s his favorite of her friends. “I don’t think Julie wanted you to tell me that,” he points out.

They shrug, perfectly in sync. “I can only deal with so much pining,” Alex explains. He looks pointedly at Luke and Reggie, who don’t notice at all.

Ray laughs, shaking his head as he looks over at Julie and Flynn, who have pulled away from the hug but are standing just as close together as they were moments before, hands holding one another’s tightly, neither of them able to look in the other’s eyes.

“I hope they don’t kiss right now,” he admits. He’s only human. “Carlos, go cause a distraction.”

“I’ll tell Flynn I saw chocolate chip cookies at the snack stand,” he says, already making his way to them. Ray watches as Carlos approaches, grabbing Flynn by her sleeve and pointing over at the table. She grins like she always does when Carlos talks to her - genuine, playful, like she loves him as much as Julie loves him - and goes with him. 

Julie lets her hands fall, but she’s smiling, starstruck. She walks over to the group of them, eyes still trained on Flynn’s retreating form for a long while before she bumps into Luke and blinks back into the present. She blushes. “Wow,” Reggie says. “That was embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up, Reggie.”

* * *

Ray drives Flynn home that night, and for once, Carlos sits in the passenger seat. In the rearview mirror, Ray can see Julie is holding Flynn’s hand on the middle seat, but other than that, everything else is the same. Carlos insists on playing his music, and Flynn sings along to every song while Julie rolls her eyes and laughs at them. When Ray pulls up to Flynn’s house, and the lights are off like they always are when Flynn’s mom is at work, Julie walks Flynn up to the door.

“Are you gonna watch?” Carlos whispers, although nobody is listening to him except Ray.

“No!” Ray replies, offended. He grabs Carlos’ head and pushes at it lightly. “Don’t stare at them. It’s rude. Let them have their moment.”

Ray plays _Candy Crush_ on his phone, secretly tempted to honk his horn so no lips do any touching. Carlos still watches, and Ray knows that, but it’s fine, too. When Carlos shrieks and covers his eyes, Ray shakes his head knowingly.

Julie slides back into the car only a minute later, cheeks bright red. “Okay,” she says into the silence. “Uh, let’s go.”

When they pull up into the driveway of their home, only two and a half miles from Flynn’s, Ray and Julie stay in the car as Carlos rushes inside. Quickly, Ray says, “You know, we might have to change some rules about sleepovers and closed doors.”

Julie coughs. “Um,” she says dumbly. “Uh, yeah. Um. _No_. But yeah.”

Ray laughs and lets her fumble on a while longer.

His bed is cold when he falls into it later, no body except his own to warm it at night, the sound of piano keys clunking still alive in his mind. But it’s okay. Despite it all, he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is not a real song because i am not a composer nor can i play piano (well i can play exactly one and a half songs on piano.... so) BUT i kind of had clare de lune in mind while i wrote that description? so think of it being pretty similar. anybody is welcome to try their hand at that song tho!


	3. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex Costello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw /// religion, implied homophobia

When Julie came out to Ray as bisexual, it was mid-sophomore year. She had started playing music again, writing songs of her own and with the help of her new band, and Ray knew she was braver than ever, so he was only half surprised when she came home from school and blurted out that she had to talk to him.

Coming out was easy, Julie told him. She wasn’t afraid of Ray’s reaction, it was just more a matter of letting him in. Like she always had with Rose.

Ray was a cool dad, though. A few days after she came out, he waited for her after school in the garage and when she greeted him at the piano, he handed her the unopened package he’d retrieved from the porch that morning. “I was thinking,” he said as she ripped away the Amazon white plastic, “you could hang this up in here, on the rafters. If you wanted. It could be a cool background in your YouTube videos.”

After a brief pause, Julie looked up at him with a sparkling smile. “This is perfect, _papi_. Thank you.” She hugged him, _tight_ , and he smiled too.

Over the next few months, once Julie’s was hung right above her piano, other flags made their entrance in the studio. A _Black Lives Matter_ flag hung from the center rafter, just a little bit above Alex’s head when he played. Another, which Ray approved of in theory but made him feel like he might’ve been _too_ cool of a parent, had a pink triangle beneath the words _Queer as in FUCK YOU_ and billowed on the far end of the band setup, where Luke played.

“Why did you hang up that flag?” Ray asked the band one morning over breakfast. They’d all stayed over last night - a big group sleepover in the studio - after a late-night gig. “The _F you_ one.”

“Oh,” Luke said around a mouthful of eggs. “Julie was getting hate comments because of her flag, so Flynn and I got it for her.”

“I didn’t know people were doing that, Jules,” Ray replied, shaking his head.

She shrugged, not looking embarrassed but not exactly brave either. “There was nothing you could do,” she said. “I didn’t want to take it down. It hurt, but I thought the flag they got was funny.”

“And it’s from a really cool band,” Reggie gushed. “Dog Park Dissidents: _Queer As In Fuck You_.”

“Well,” Ray said, taking a single breath. “Cool,” he bit out. It was pretty cool, if he’s honest with himself. Julie really did have some dedicated friends.

But that was a few months ago. Now, Julie is dating Flynn. Ray didn’t even know Flynn liked girls, but he’s cool with it - obviously. Even if it means family game nights are a little weirder because Julie holds Flynn’s hand the whole time and kisses her cheek when they beat Ray and Carlos, and that sleepovers are just as frequent but saying goodnight is stiff and awkward because he really, _really_ doesn’t want to think about what they get up to when he goes to bed.

And now, Luke has bought himself a flag for the rafters. A pink, white, and blue one. 

  
  


(He asks Ray to help him hang it, and Ray is happy to come with. “What does it mean?” he asks. 

“It’s the transgender flag,” Luke explains, unafraid but surely a little shy. “Um, ‘cause I was-”

“I know what trans is, Luke,” Ray teases and watches the weight fly off of Luke’s shoulders. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Cool,” Luke laughs, relieved, and they don’t talk about it again.)

  
  


And now, Reggie has one too: yellow, white, purple, and black.

  
  


(“I’ve never seen this one before,” Ray admits when he sees it in the studio. The whole band is there, but only Reggie blushes, so Ray has a sneaking suspicion on who bought it.

“It’s the non-binary flag,” Julie covers for Reggie. “When you’re not really a boy or a girl.”

“Oh,” Ray says. “That’s cool. Very _Star Trek_.” It’s a dumb joke, but Reggie laughs, so Ray takes it as a win. Then, while Reggie and him set the table together, Ray asks, “Is the flag yours, Reggie?”

“Yeah,” Reggie huffs. “It’s mine.”

“Do you want me to stop calling you _mijo?_ Since it’s… for boys, I guess.”

“Um, no.” Reggie shakes his head. “I like it. I don’t - it doesn’t bother me. But, um, maybe when you talk about me, sometimes, you could use _they_ instead of _he?”_

“Of course, Reggie,” Ray agrees and ruffles Reggie’s hair. Reggie sputters and starts rambling about how long it took for them to do their hair, so Reggie knows it’s okay.)

  
  


Even Flynn has her own. A pink and orange one that Ray, who is quickly becoming the master of pride flags, recognizes as the lesbian flag. He tells her he likes it when he helps her hang it up, and she thanks him, and it’s good.

But Alex hasn’t said a word about the flags. There is a spot for his, right in between the BLM one and the trans one, but it remains empty for a long while after Luke and Reggie hang up their flags. In fact, it’s when Julie and Flynn have been together for a firm two months, almost exactly a year after Julie had come out to Ray, when Julie and Carlos are both gone and the guys are - presumably - nowhere to be found and Ray is doing his dishes, that the spot finally finds its flag.

* * *

_Hi Ray! It’s Alex Costello :) I was wondering if you’re busy right now?_

Ray squints at the text and laughs. _Hi Alex, I have your contact saved and I know you know that. I’m not busy at all._

Ray scrubs furiously at some dried food that’s embroidered itself into the ridges of his favorite pan, swaying his hips to the radio that’s whistling softly in the background. He hums along and tries not to worry about Alex, because Alex has always been mature and grounded, even when he’s anxious. Ray knows, objectively, everything is okay.

_Do you think we could go get coffee? If you’re sure you’re not busy._

_Sounds fun,_ Ray says. He likes hanging out with all of Julie’s friends, but Alex is the one that reminds him of Rose, both equal parts exasperated and fond, both empathetic, both somehow always right. He just knows she would’ve loved the kid. _I’ll pick you up in 20?_

_Ok :)_

* * *

On the way to the coffeeshop from Alex’s home, they listen to the new demo that Julie’s friend Nick released. Alex talks over it, like teenagers do, about his thoughts on the track. He’s not like Luke, who goes off on hour long tangents about the rattling drums being a metaphor for _blah blah blah_ , but he is still a musician, even when he and Reggie pale in comparison to Luke’s outlandish passion. Ray’s favorite on the EP is the third song, a quiet piano melody, but Alex’s is the first, which starts out bold and unafraid on electric guitar.

When they get there, to Alex’s favorite coffee shop - they played a gig there a few months ago because Alex knew the owner by then - Ray insists he pays. Alex works three days a week at a library across the street from their high school. Ray can manage the five dollar coffee.

“So, Alex,” Ray says once they’ve sat at a small round table and slid into the barstools. “What did you want to talk to me about? I know you didn’t just want coffee with me.”

Alex blushes and looks down at his mason jar, because this is one of those places that puts iced coffee in mason jars. The metal straw clinks against the rim as he stirs the drink a little, before finally he forces out, “It’s kinda… deep.”

“Good,” Ray says, smoother than he feels. “I can be deep. I’m woke.”

“Those are not the same thing,” Alex says, smiling now. “Um, yeah. I…”

He takes a long, deep breath. “Take your time,” Ray tells him, laying his hand over Alex’s wrist and holding tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex looks up at him, _finally_ , and says, “I’m gay.”

Ray blinks at him. “Oh,” he says. “Okay. Very cool.” Alex laughs and drops his head to the table, tucking it in the crook of his arm. Ray laughs too when he tacks on, “ _I mean,_ thank you for telling me. It must have been very hard, I’m aware of that. You’re very brave and I love you no matter who you love.”

Alex doesn’t lift his head. “I haven’t told anybody yet,” he admits.

“The band?” Ray asks. Those kids tell each other everything. “You know they’d be okay with it.”

“No, I know,” he responds, finally bringing his head back up and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “I think they kinda know, it’s just like - I’ve never been able to say it out loud.”

“This is the first time you’ve said it out loud?” Ray asks quietly. Alex nods, pulling his face from his palm and wringing his hands together. “Well. I’m very honored you trusted me enough to tell me.”

“You’re kinda-” Alex clears his throat- “I dunno, you're kinda like - my dad. I know my dad is around and stuff but…”

“I understand,” Ray says, thinking back to all the Sundays Alex had to skip band practice for church when his dad - the pastor - insisted Sundays are reserved for God. Ray was a born Catholic, and his children were baptized and confirmed, but still. What’s a God who doesn’t love kids unconditionally? What’s a parent who won’t either? “ _Mijo_ ,” Ray whispers, and Alex darts his eyes away to take a sip from his straw. “If your parents get hung up over this - if they think this is some flaw or mistake or _whatever_ \- you always have a place in my home. Okay?”

Alex wipes at his eyes indiscreetly. “Thank you,” he says, voice raspy with tears. “I just - I don’t know when I’ll tell them. If I ever will. I - I don’t think I can. And it doesn’t really matter, anyway, it’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything.”

“You never have to, not until you feel ready. Don’t worry about it. And if you _do_ get a boyfriend and you want to bring him home to meet the parents, I am more than happy to give him the scary dad talk. Actually, I insist.”

Alex laughs. “Thank you, Ray,” he says earnestly. “Did you give Flynn the scary dad talk?”

“No way.” Ray shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink. “She scares me.”

* * *

“Do you _want_ to come out to the band?” Ray asks as he turns the key in his car.

Alex shrugs as he fumbles through his music, searching for the second half of Nick’s EP. “Yeah, I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it, you know? Like, we’re all gay-ish, so.”

“I have an idea,” Ray offers with a grin. Alex matches with one of his own.

* * *

“Hey guys,” Ray says, peeking his head in through the double-doors of the garage. “Am I interrupting anything?” It’s band practice, but Ray hadn’t heard any music.

“Not at all,” Reggie tells him, grinning. “I mean, those two-” he points his thumb over his shoulder at Julie and Luke, who are hunched over the piano with a sheet of paper between them- “are obsessing over this one melody they’re working on, so the rest of us are just hanging out.”

Ray grins. The two of them always dive headfirst into songwriting. Like Rose did. “No surprise there,” he teases. “Well, I bought a new flag for your wall.”

“Oh!” Luke says, now interested. “What’s the flag?”

Ray presents the Amazon package from behind his back and the kids - save for Alex, who is smiling knowingly - perk up at the sight. “It’s Alex’s,” Ray says, and Alex flushes, eyes a little wide. The namedrop wasn’t _not_ part of the plan, but it wasn’t written in stone, either. “ _Mijo_ , do you want to hang it up?”

Alex nods, pulling himself up from his spot on the couch and racing over to grab the unopened flag from Ray’s hands. He rips at the tab that closes it until the fabric is free and pulls it out. It’s lines of blue and green, a little bit like Flynn’s flag, but a little different too.

“Oh,” Luke repeats. He’s smiling.

“That’s cute,” Julie offers. “It’ll look really nice right there, next to Luke’s.”

Alex blushes and pulls the wrapping all the way off, tossing it on the ground in the way teenage boys always do in this studio. “Uh.” He looks at Ray and before he can ask, Ray sticks out his hand to help. “Thanks.”

They hang it, and Flynn insists on taking a picture of the band in front of the set up. “This is such a cute Twitter header,” she says, and Ray doesn’t get it, not in the slightest, but he’s happy for them anyway.

As soon as he steps out of the garage, arms wrap around his waist and a head is tucked underneath his chin. He can just barely make out the floppy blonde hair, and he smiles, resting his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Thanks,” Alex says again, this time a whisper.

  
“Of course, Alex,” he promises, and he can feel Alex smile into his t-shirt.


	4. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reggie Wilkes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw /// child abuse, domestic abuse, reggie's parents are literally the worst i could possibly make them
> 
> a couple things:  
> \- i use they/them pronouns for reggie exclusively, if that bothers u i do not care xoxo  
> \- this is really fucking long LMAOOO and completely pointless  
> \- this has a very fairytale ending to a horrible, real life tragedy, and by no means am i attempting to belittle it or the trauma that it causes. i just wanted to give reggie something to smile about.  
> \- lukereggie isn't happening yet but it's happening, yk?
> 
> EDIT: i previously put a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts but i cut that scene out bc it was too grim for me ... so. that warning is no longer necessary. just a clarification!

Ray knew, in little detail, that Reggie’s home life was at best, pretty subpar. Nobody told Ray more than that, and after one incident with a lot of crying and a small-scale panic attack, Ray has learned not to ask. He wants to, of course, but he doesn’t know what he could do about it even if he knew, so he just keeps Reggie safe in other ways.

Firstly, Reggie stays plenty of nights at the Molina house. The guest bedroom is more their own than any guests’, and Carlos loves the nights Reggie comes over somehow even more than Julie. Reggie and Carlos will play games - board games, video games, throw a ball outside in the front yard - right up until bedtime, and then Reggie will creep into Julie’s room for movies and gossip until Ray catches them and drags Reggie to bed fondly. Those nights, fun as they are, are often doused in a bitter reminder that Reggie is only around because their parents are doing something awful - God knows what.

Secondly, Reggie is always given the leftovers. Alex’s parents can be mean but they have never sent him to bed without dinner and they never neglect to feed him, and Luke’s parents love him just enough to make sure he eats well. But Reggie’s parents don’t always feed them, and when they do, as Reggie has admitted to Ray, it’s not usually very _good_ \- just microwaved, four day old spaghetti or boxed noodles. So Ray has taken to sending Reggie home with any leftovers they acquire, so they can have lunch and dinner (and sometimes breakfast) the next day. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

And thirdly, Reggie has a key to the front door. It’s never been used before, but Julie gave it to them - per Ray’s insistence - as a _just in case you need it_ type thing. For when no one’s home and they’re on the run, or if they’re desperate to escape, or even just hungry. Ray fears the day it’s used.

He doesn’t get how this kid - so gentle, so kind, so full of energy and laughter and music - could be from something so broken. It’s the little things, too, like how they flinch when a door slams or always moves to stand in front of Carlos when he breaks something. Ray is never mad - he prides himself on his even tone - but he makes sure to be leagues softer when Reggie is around. Just in case.

And it’s okay. Kind of. Ray buys Reggie their favorite snacks, keeps them in a bowl right outside the front door so they can always grab it on the way out, and checks his phone a couple extra times a day just in case Reggie has called. Julie worries too, almost as much as he does, and she is regularly sent to school with an extra sandwich. _Just in case_ And it’s okay - kind of - until finally, it’s not.

* * *

Ray’s phone rings twenty minutes past midnight. He groans into the night, eyes heavy as he struggles to peel them open. He rolls onto his stomach and blindly reaches for his phone, the bright white screen somehow visible through his eyelids. Rather than checking the contact name, he lifts his phone to his ear and croaks out, “Hello?”

“Ray?” a crackly voice replies, sniffly like they’d been crying. “It’s Reggie.”

“Reggie,” Ray says, suddenly awake as he sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed, already in movement. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“My parents-” Reggie says, voice so broken with tears, barely above a whisper. “They - Ray, I-”

“Honey, I’m coming to get you,” Ray tells them, no hesitation. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“I - I don’t know,” they admit. Ray hears shuffling through the phone and he waits for a second longer, just in time for Reggie to say, “I just took off running. Um, the sign says McKinley and 103rd.”

That’s four miles from Reggie’s house. They ran for four miles. Reggie hates running.

“I’m on my way,” Ray says, already halfway down the stairs. “Stay on the phone with me, okay?”

“Dad?” Julie calls from behind him, sleepy-eyed and dressed in her fuzzy pajamas. “What’s wrong?”

Reggie sobs. “Please don’t tell her,” they cry.

Ray hesitates, but says after a second, “I’ll be back soon, okay? I’m just gonna go pick up Reggie.” It’s not telling her, but it’s not lying either, and though Julie is hesitant of his answer, Reggie seems satisfied by it.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks.

“Reggie, is it okay if Julie comes with me?”

Reggie just keeps crying. Ray nods.

She doesn’t even grab her phone, but she does grab the biggest sweatshirt she has - the one that fits Reggie, that they steal all the time - and comes racing down the stairs. Together, they run to Ray’s car, Reggie still crying on the phone. “It’s a twelve minute drive,” he says, and Julie nods, taking the phone from his hand as he rushes to put the car in drive.

“Hey, Reggie,” she says softly, and Ray can hear them crying through the phone. It makes him grip his steering wheel tight, knuckles white with anger, and he breathes through his nose so he doesn’t crash the car in anger. “Talk to me, okay? I just wanna keep you on the phone.”

She puts them on speaker so Ray can hear it too. He smiles at her gratefully, and then Reggie starts to talk. “I’ve never been here before,” they say. “I just started running towards your house and then I couldn’t keep running.”

“That’s okay,” she insists. “I’m really glad you called my dad. Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” they admit. “I’m - I’m wearing shorts.”

Julie laughs wetly and it takes everything in Ray not to scream at God. How could something like this happen to such a good person? Ray doesn’t even _know_ what happened, but a part of him does, and that’s probably the scariest part. That he knows exactly what happened, and he can’t do anything about it. 

“I brought you a sweatshirt,” she says, and Reggie sobs brokenly. “The one you always wear when you visit. Honestly, I think I should just give it to you, you wear it more than I ever do.”

They don’t stop crying, and Julie doesn’t stop talking, and Ray doesn’t stop driving, not up until the moment a twelve-minute drive turns into nine minutes and he comes screeching down 103rd, pulling off onto the side of the road as soon as he sees a body - a kid, _his kid_ \- curled up and trembling underneath the street sign.

“Reggie,” Ray gasps as he throws himself out of the driver’s seat with just enough time to put it in park. He drops to the ground in front of Reggie, wrapping his arms around him and doing everything he can to bite down his tears. Reggie’s arms fly up to grab Ray by the sleeves, holding so tight Ray fears they will rip the fabric, and they sob, even louder than they had been. “ _Mijo_ , I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Behind them, Julie wails. Ray can only pull Reggie closer, whispering, _“I’m here,”_ over and over again.

  
  


A few minutes later, they’re driving in complete silence, save for the sounds of Julie rubbing Reggie’s back as they cry. She moved into the back before they left, wrapped Reggie in that warm blue sweatshirt, and is sitting unbuckled with her back against the door while they hold her, face buried in her collarbone and bawling. Ray really, really wants to drive to Reggie’s house and crash the car through the downstairs window, just to light it all on fire, but he doesn’t; he wants to call up Reggie’s dad and insist they meet somewhere so he can beat him to a pulp, but he doesn’t; he _wishes_ , prays he could go back in time and kidnap Reggie the day he met them so none of this ever happened, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

When they pull into their driveway, the car has become dead quiet, nothing beyond the white noise from the engine to meet their ears. Reggie had stopped crying halfway through the drive, maybe even fallen asleep, but Ray can’t be sure. He parks, but doesn’t lift his hands from his steering wheels. He takes a very long, slow breath, forcing his eyes shut to control his tears.

“Are they sleeping?” he asks Julie.

“Reg?” she whispers, running her hands through their hair. They shake their head. “They’re awake.”

Silently, Ray nods, getting out of the car and walking around to the opposite side of where Julie is sitting. He pulls open the door and gently puts his hand on Reggie’s shoulder, and Reggie - so hesitantly, so afraid, in a way Ray has never seen them - scoots backwards to pull themself from Julie’s hold. They keep their head down as they shuffle from the car and shyly move past Ray.

Ray doesn’t let them go very far. He reaches for Reggie’s elbow with soft fingers, and Reggie flinches just slightly, but Ray pretends not to notice. He doesn’t want them to be embarrassed. “Can I hug you, _mijo_?” he asks.

“I don’t want to cry again,” they whisper, cheeks red and eyes still avoiding Ray’s. They go easily into his arms, though, and they wrap their own around Ray’s waist and bury their face in his t-shirt, and they don’t cry, even though they were afraid they would.

“You can cry,” Ray says in a hushed voice. Julie comes around the car and looks over expectantly, and Ray lifts his arm for her, so she rushes in and holds Reggie too.

“Dad?” Carlos says from the doorstep, apparently awake now. He squints at the demonstration in front of him and makes his way over to them. Delicately, he tucks his face in Reggie’s shoulder blades and loosely wraps his arms around their waist.

Reggie laughs wetly and Ray tries not to cry.

* * *

Reggie and Carlos sleep in Julie’s room that night, because she has the biggest bed. Ray takes a picture of it in the morning and imagines showing it to Rose, pretends he can hear her cooing over the three of them, calling them her babies and putting her hand over her heart. If Rose were here, Ray would know what to do - who to call, who to kill - but she’s not here, and he has to figure it out all by himself.

Well. Not all by himself.

“Victoria,” he hisses into the phone as soon as she picks up. “We have a bit of an emergency.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she replies, and he knows it’s true by the shuffling in the background. “What’s wrong?”

“Julie’s friend, Reggie - they called me last night. Something happened with their parents, I don’t know what.” She is silent for a few seconds, and Ray buries his face in his hands. “They’re here now. I don’t know what to do. How to help.”

“I’m on my way,” she says. “I’ll make breakfast.”

Food. The language of love in a _latine_ home.

When Victoria arrives, they talk in the kitchen, voices barely above a whisper just in case one of the kids comes downstairs. He cuts the vegetables for the _huevos rotos_ while she works on the _chorizo_.

“I just don’t get it,” he says at some point, the anger in his body forcing him to drop the knife just in case he accidentally chops his hand off. “How could anybody do this to Reggie? Of all kids?”

“I don’t either,” Victoria agrees. “I don’t think we ever will. All we can do is love them like our own, right? Because it’s what they deserve.”

“I just wish I could do something more.” He picks the knife back up, breathing slow so he doesn’t get worked up again. “I would do anything to make it better for them.”

Victoria nods like she understands, but Ray knows she doesn’t. Her understanding is surface level - of course he wants to make it better, she must be thinking, because anybody would, for any kid. It’s true, sure, that anybody would, but this is _Reggie_. The kindest, gentlest kid in the world. The kind of person that buys their friends little knick-knacks whenever they go to a new place, the band member that steals a coaster from every bar and club they play at and has them all lined up on Julie’s piano. This is Reggie, who has - on more than one occasion - found an injured bird outside the studio and brought it into the house to nurse it back to health. _This is Reggie_.

“Um, Ray?” Reggie’s voice calls from outside the kitchen. Ray spins around to smile at them, genuine and warm but still a little forced.

“Hi, buddy,” Ray says, leaving his spot at the cutting board while Victoria nods reassuringly. “Let’s go to the garage, okay?”

Reggie follows him, wringing their hands the whole way. “I - I wanted to apologize,” they say once they’ve made it outside, and Ray whirls around in confusion. They hesitate, and then add, “For calling you so late last night. I - I shouldn’t have.”

“Reggie.” Ray steps forward, putting his hand on Reggie’s cheek. “I am so glad you called me,” he insists. “But… I think we need to talk about what happened.” Reggie scrunches their eyes shut, fighting back tears. “Come on,” Ray whispers, leading Reggie to the couch in the studio.

He pulls them under his arm, bringing them to rest their head on his chest. “Please, Reggie, tell me what happened. I really need to know.”

It takes a long few minutes before Reggie works up the courage to speak. “They were fighting,” they say. Their voice is empty, like they can’t cry anymore, they’ve used up all their sadness and now they’re just monotonous. “I - I keep a baseball bat under my bed just in case it gets out of hand. In case he hits her, or - or she hits him. And it got out of hand. So I went downstairs, because when they break stuff, I have to fix it, and I didn’t want them to keep breaking stuff. So I went downstairs. I didn’t think - I just didn’t expect they would-” they whimper, breaking off and planting their face in their hands, pulling their body away from Ray’s to rest the weight of their upper half in their elbows, which are propped on their knees.

Ray follows, keeps his arm on Reggie’s back and rubs circles into the skin between his shoulder blades. “It’s okay, Reggie,” he says softly. “Take your time.”

Another few minutes pass. “They don’t hit me, usually,” they say, and Ray wants to scream. “Only if I get in their way. It’s usually my own fault, but last night-” they take a wavering breath, and try again. “Last night, as soon as he saw me start coming down the stairs, he - he just got so mad. And I just - I thought he’d - I was _sure_ he would’ve killed her. If I hadn’t come downstairs. He was so drunk. But I didn’t think I would - that he would-” Reggie breaks again, pulling their legs into their chest and burying their face there. They take a few slow breaths, but Ray doesn’t stop the movement on their back.

“He threw a bottle at me. It hit the wall, like, two inches from my face. I told him to leave and come back when he was sober, and he told me to fuck off. _This is my home_ -” a grumbly impersonation of Reggie’s dad’s voice- “ _so get the fuck out, Reggie._ And I wasn’t going to, but then he - he kept throwing stuff at me and my mom said, _This is all your fault, leave, Reggie_ , and I just - I just left.”

They sob once, heartbroken and torn, and Ray has to squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t cry.

“She could be dead,” they say. “And I left her.”

“It is not your fault,” Ray insists, pulling Reggie back into his arms. “Anything that happened last night, or whenever they’ve fought. It is _not_ your fault. You are a kid, Reg.”

“I’m 18,” they say. “Well - tomorrow.”

Ray freezes. “Tomorrow is your birthday?” He didn’t know that. Did anybody know that?”

“Yeah,” they laugh humorlessly. “This is why I hate my birthday. They always do this. And now everything I own - my clothes, my bass - oh, _fuck,_ my bass - it’s all gone. Forever. _Fuck._ "

Ray doesn’t know what to say when they fall apart all over again, diving headfirst into loud, helpless sobs. Really, there isn’t anything he _can_ say, so instead he just holds them through it. 

* * *

“Reggie is going to be staying with us from now on,” Ray announces during breakfast. Julie and Victoria seem unfazed by this and Carlos jumps up in his seat with excitement, but Reggie - who learns this at the same time as everyone else - jolts in surprise.

“Oh,” they say. “You - you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Reggie,” Ray scolds kindly, but Julie beats him to it.

“Oh, shut it,” she says, and Carlos barks a laugh. “You’re staying, suck it up.”

Reggie grins shyly. “Okay,” he agrees.

“Also, tomorrow is their birthday.”

The table erupts in noise, Carlos scolding them for not having said it earlier, Victoria fussing over plans, and Julie laughing because she’d known all along. Julie meets Ray’s eyes from across the table, and there’s a rush of _knowing_ \- knowing that this all happened to Reggie only days before their eighteenth, knowing how unfair all this is, knowing this is exactly why Reggie hates their birthday, because bad things always happen on it - and Ray wishes he could take it all away. 

But he can’t, so instead, he forces a smile and calls the attention back to him and away from Reggie, who is blushing and struggling to answer all the questions being thrown their way. “So to celebrate, we are going shopping for their room.”

“Mr. Molina, I-”

“Reginald, when have you _ever_ called me that?”

Reggie laughs and rolls their eyes. “ _R_ _ay,_ ” they correct. “You really… don’t have to do that for me.”

Ray pauses to look at them, and the table goes silent - really silent, like hear a pin drop from the driveway silent. “I know,” he says softly. “But this is what parents do, okay _mijo_?” Reggie beams, like they always do when Ray is all soft and gooey, and everybody pretends like they don’t notice them blinking away tears.

* * *

“Luke,” Ray says into the phone. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Shoot,” Luke agrees easily.

“You know what tomorrow is,” Ray says, and Luke hums his acknowledgement. “Something happened last night, so… Reggie is here with us now. Permanently.”

“What?” Luke asks, and Ray can hear him shoot up to his feet in shock. “Like - living with you?”

Ray clears his throat and nods, even though Luke can’t see him. (It’s something Rose used to make fun of him for, but he doesn’t have the time to let the bitterness rise. He’s busy.) “Yeah,” he answers. “They’re living with us. We’re taking them shopping tomorrow, for their room, but-” he sighs- “they left their bass at home.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Luke says, no hesitation. “Alex and I can have it all by tomorrow morning.”

Ray stares at the beige wall in front of him, steeling himself, praying he wouldn’t punch a hole through the plaster sometime soon. “I am not going to ask how you do it,” he says. “It doesn’t matter to me. Anything works. Got it?”

“I got it, Ray,” Luke insists. “I’ll text Alex right now.”

“Okay,” Ray agrees. Just as he opens his mouth to say goodbye, Luke interrupts.

“We’re really lucky to have you,” he blurts out. Ray smiles sourly. “Especially Reggie.”

Luke hangs up without saying goodbye, but that’s okay.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Reggie pretends like nothing happened at all, and Ray lets them. The numbness won’t last forever, he knows, but it will last for today. Carlos ropes them into some games, Julie gets them to write a song with her - a love song, which Reggie blushes at the suggestion of - and Victoria leaves around lunch time with a promise to bring Reggie _buñuelos_ for their birthday. For now, it’s okay.

At dinner, Reggie asks abruptly, “How long can I stay?”

Ray blinks at them, tilting his head in confusion. “As long as you want, _mijo_.”

“I mean, a few weeks? Months?” Their fork scrapes against the plate as they toy with the rice and beans in front of them. “I don’t want to overstay.”

“Well,” Ray says with a sigh. “Julie promised she would move out before she turned 20 and Carlos agreed to 25, so around there sounds good to me.” 

Reggie narrows their eyes at Ray, calculating, and Julie fills the silence. “You know, Reg, I always wanted an older brother.”

“Me too,” Carlos chimes in, voice laced with excitement. “It’ll be so cool, I promise. We can watch scary movies every weekend and I won’t even annoy you because I like scary stuff.”

“No you won’t,” Ray says, shaking his head and pointing at Carlos with a grin. “You’re 12, Carlos, you are not staying up late with Reggie and watching horror movies.”

“What about really old ones that aren’t even scary? Like… _The Shining?”_

“ _T_ _he Shining_ is way too scary for you,” Julie argues.

At the same time, Ray asks, “How do you even know what that is?”

Carlos fights back, but Reggie’s voice is louder. “Are you sure?” they ask Ray.

Ray huffs. “Reggie, you’re family. I will not let one of my kids suffer anymore, alright?” Reggie’s eyes are wide at that - _my kids_ \- but Ray doesn’t let them wallow in it. “So, let’s talk rules. You can have the boys over whenever you want, as long as you ask, but if it’s just you and Luke, I expect doors to stay open.”

Reggie squeaks. “Wha-”

“And bedtime is 9:00 for Carlos on school nights, and 11:00 for you and Julie.”

“Hurtful.” Carlos pouts.

“We’ll work out chores later, that’s no big deal. Uh, no drugs in the house. If you come home hammered, you _will_ get an ice bath. Thursday is family game night, and we go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve.” Ray looks at Carlos and Julie, who are listening attentively. “Did I miss anything?” he asks.

“I think you got it all,” Carlos says.

“I don’t want to share a bathroom with Reggie,” Julie says. “No offense.” She looks at Reggie sheepishly.

“They’ve got one in their room,” Ray says.

“Reggie gets their own bathroom?” Carlos cries out in despair.

Julie laughs. “So do you?” It’s not a question, but she says it like it is.

“Yeah, but I have to walk like, eight feet to get to mine. It’s _in_ _their_ _room_ ,” he wails. Julie rolls her eyes.

“I love you guys,” Reggie says finally, and everybody darts to look at them. They’re not crying, not really, but their eyes are shiny and their cheeks are red.

Ray smiles. “We love you too.” Everybody pauses and then he says, “Carlos, I helped you paint your bathroom, I better not hear you complaining.”

* * *

Reggie wakes to two bodies smaller than their own jumping on the bed and the sound of Ray’s laughter. Ray, from his spot against the wall, can see them try to hide their smile in their pillow, but Julie doesn’t let them. She, while Carlos continues bouncing and calling out Reggie’s name, drops to her knees and pulls at the pillow until their grip is loose enough that she can tear it from their arms.

“It’s your birthday!” she shouts, and they groan.

“Singing time!” Ray announces as he holds his phone up higher, still videotaping. “Happy birthday to you…”

Reggie is fighting back laughter the whole time.

Luke texts Ray at 10 in the morning on Reggie’s birthday, while he makes breakfast and the kids are circled around the television, watching Reggie’s favorite Disney movie - _Tangled_ \- and drinking hot chocolate. _We’re on our way._

Ray doesn’t reply, but he figures if they’re leaving Alex’s home - which they probably are, because Alex is the one who has a license - they’ll be there just in time for breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes are a birthday tradition in the Molina household, and nothing will be changing that any time soon.

He keeps working at the pancakes and fights the temptation to go hold his babies when he hears them sniffling at the movie - the part where Eugene dies, the saddest part, which Ray is personally very aware of - until Luke and Alex come through the front door, no knocking necessary. Ray shakes his head fondly at the two of them.

“Reginald Lee Wilkes,” Luke shouts, and Ray watches as Reggie jumps in surprise before starting to laugh. “Get your flat ass over here.”

“That’s mean,” Alex scolds, but Reggie is still smiling. They pull themself up off the couch and Julie predictably whips her phone out to record.

“What…?” they ask nervously.

Luke smiles, and beside him, Alex can’t stop giggling. Ray turns the stove off so he can keep watching the scene unfold. “I have your birthday present.”

Reggie rolls their eyes. “What?” they ask, now monotonous, expecting a joke. Luke spins around and grabs the shiny red bass from its spot behind the door, and Reggie gasps. “Wha- how did you?”

“Ray, stop listening,” Alex pleads, and Ray pretends to cover his ears with a wink.

“We broke in through your window,” Luke responds, far too pleased with himself. Ray cringes.

“You _what_?” Reggie cries out gleefully.

“It was so crazy,” Alex blurts out.

“We totally woke your dad up, and I really thought that was the end of _Julie and the Phantoms-_ ”

“Like, you guys could get a new drummer and guitarist, but you’d _have_ to rename the band.”

“Yeah, we for _sure_ would’ve haunted you if you didn’t.”

“Anyways-” Alex continues, but Reggie keeps laughing and Julie keeps recording- “I pushed your bed against the door so there’s _lowkey_ no way to get in from the inside of your house, so…”

Reggie is shaking their head in disbelief the whole time. “I - I can’t believe this.”

“I got your guitar too,” Luke says shyly. “Um. The acoustic.”

“That’s the only guitar they have,” Alex whispers.

“Shut up.” Luke blushes. “And clothes. And - some other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Ray says, now invested. “No drugs in the house!” He points at Reggie. “I told you no drugs.”

“I - there’s no drugs!” Reggie insists, eyes wide. “Right?” they look at Luke and Alex, who shake their heads diligently.

“Um. Photos. Of - of us,” Luke explains, cheeks red. "And albums. Your notebooks. That stuff."

“Oh.” Reggie smiles. They’re blushing too. “Cool,” they breathe out.

“Yeah,” Luke replies in the same fashion.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Ugh, seriously?” he says, face scrunched up like how it gets when he’s annoyed. Blindly, Luke elbows him in the ribs, and Alex groans. “Julie,” he whines.

“You’re not supposed to complain about them out loud,” she teases, already on her way over to the group. “Reg, Flynn said she’s on her way.”

“When Flynn gets here we are eating breakfast!” Ray says. “And then today, we are painting Reggie’s room.”

“Seriously?” Reggie asks, smiling wildly. “Oh my gosh, I’ve always wanted to paint my own room.”

“Happy birthday, then,” Ray says, smiling just as wildly. He can’t help himself.

* * *

It hurts, thinking about Reggie’s family. It’s not a good hurt, not like Rose’s hurt. It’s just bad. But there isn’t anything Ray can do but live in it, so he lives in it, and then he pushes through. By the end of the day, out in the garage, Julie and Flynn are making Tik Toks, Alex is teaching Carlos how to play the drums, Reggie is curled up in Luke’s arms on the couch, and Ray is nursing a mug of hot chocolate - probably his hundredth of the day - as he watches from his spot on the armchair.

At some point, Reggie points at Julie and laughs at her for failing a dance. “Nice one,” they say, teasing her ruthlessly. “You’ll get it the 40th time, I’m sure.”

“Reggie, you’re a Molina now. You know what that means?” Reggie grins, shaking their head obliviously. “It means I can beat you up and it won’t be assault. Just sibling rivalry.”

“Is that a threat?” they squawk, and Julie grins.

“No,” Flynn says. “I’m pretty sure it’s a promise.”

Reggie screams, jumping from their spot in Luke’s hold as Julie starts racing towards them. They go running out the garage door, shouting and yelling and laughing, all the others following just as loudly, and Ray just keeps on smiling. For a weekend that started out pretty fucking bleak - it certainly could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was objectively sad. i'm sorry for that. but i gave it a picture perfect ending, so its ok, right?
> 
> i use latine rather than latinx because latinx can't be said in spanish (or plural, tbh) so that is my preference and what i've heard from other latines!

**Author's Note:**

> #RAY: gay rights
> 
> PLS COMMENT IT MAKES ME HAPPY <3
> 
> twitter; strawberryphll  
> tumblr; strawberryphil  
> insta; strawberryphll
> 
> bet you cant guess what my pinterest is


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